Scholar
by Pink Hair and Roses
Summary: Timothy McGee is a scholar. But so is Abby.


Timothy McGee is a scholar. When Abby took him to bed for the first time, she was completely endeared by his naivety, his shy smile and the way the tips of his ears turned pink when he was feeling self-conscious. She wasn't surprised, really, that he hadn't had a lot of girls, despite the fact that he was totally cute and had a quiet confidence that belied the stuttering and stammering that sometimes took over. But what he lacked in experience, he made up for in determination and education. One section of his bookshelf wall held The Joy of Sex, The Kama Sutra, books on tantric sex and erotic massage and pleasing women. And when he made love to her, she could tell that he filed away every moan, every ooh and aah that she made, and every corresponding lick or suck or twist on his part. And by the end of their relationship, short as it was, he was a master at pleasing her.

But that was a long time ago.

Still, sometimes she would look at him and get a chill down her spine, remembering him with his head buried between her thighs or splayed out on his bed, his old ugly ties binding his wrists. And she had to admit, even to herself, that McGee starred in most of her fantasies these days.

But if it were just about the sex, then why not seduce him? She's seen the way he looks at her sometimes. It wouldn't be a stretch to get him a bit tipsy on their next movie night and make a pass. Oh, he might try to beg off at first, but she could be very convincing. After all, she's a scholar, too.

But it wasn't just about the sex. She had lied to herself about that for a long time. She convinced herself that she couldn't go down that road because it wouldn't be fair to McGee, that he wasn't strong enough to handle being toyed with or to lose her again. But now she knew that Tim was the strong one. He was strong enough to be honest.

He looked surprised when she asked him to join her for dinner, but pleased. It had been a while since they'd hung out together after work. At first, her nervous energy was like after a million Caf-Pows, but this was still just McGee. Soon her hands stopped wringing under the table and started animating her words, and she slowed down enough that he was able to finish some of her sentences. She was hardly nervous at all when she called for the bill after dessert and invited him back to her place.

And when she got him inside and parked him on the couch with a drink, she steeled up her nerve and climbed on his lap, straddling his thighs.

"Hi." His Adam's apple bobbed and he did that adorable thing with his eyebrows, making him look vulnerable and confused.

"Hi."

And then she leaned forward and kissed him. It was kind of hesitant and with a bit of a question, at odds with how forward she'd been just seconds before. Almost like she was at war with herself. But the whole night had been like that.

His eyebrows did that other adorable thing. The big surprised archy thing. Then the little crease formed in the centre and it was that look; the pleading look. And she knew she had him before he even started kissing her back.

His kisses turned from tentative to greedy in seconds, and greedy quickly gave way to predatory. He pulled the bobby pins out her hair done up like teddy bear ears so that he could grab fistfuls at the nape of her neck. His teeth scraped her throat and tugged the shell of her ear and left indentations with a sucking bruise on her shoulder. And it was all perfect, everything just the way she remembered, only with a little something extra – confidence and experience and maturity.

She led him down the hall to her bedroom, but he stopped to kiss her hard against the door before she could make it to the bed. He turned her around and slowly pulled down the zipper on the back of her dress, exposing the flower and then the cross. He pulled it down off her shoulders, letting the angels free as well. And it fell to the floor. No bra, of course, but her panties quickly joined the pile. He shed his own clothes and pulled her onto the bed. She thought she'd been in charge.

He remembered everything. He remembered how sucking her nipple and then blowing across the wet skin made her shiver. He remembered just how hard to suck her clit and to corkscrew his middle finger just like that inside her at the same time. He remembered that she found it so hot when he talked dirty while she sucked his cock, even though it made his ears turn pink. And he remembered how much she loved it when he took her hard from behind and ended each thrust with the roll of his hips so it hit her just there. And, after all that time, she thought that would be kinda creepy. But holding onto a memory wasn't like holding onto her old toothbrush (even though it wasn't). It was sweet. And wonderful. And just exactly what she needed. And she thought he knew that, too.

Afterwards, his expression was not what she expected. She assumed it would be unsure or even regretful. She wouldn't have even been surprised by smug. But she got peaceful, without even one line on his forehead. "I love you, McGee," just popped out.

His smile was full of wonder but not surprise.

And she knew that she had a lot to learn. But she was a scholar. And she couldn't wait.


End file.
